


Impurity

by emblazonet



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Bottom Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Force Choking, Hate Sex, M/M, Or contempt sex anyway, pissbabies, terrible power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblazonet/pseuds/emblazonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Kylo Ren and Hux are pissbabies and I don't want them to be happy. I am perfectly content to watch them hatefuck each other, though. </p><p>Shoutout to my friends who pressured me to finish this, you're all great!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Impurity

**Author's Note:**

> Kylo Ren and Hux are pissbabies and I don't want them to be happy. I am perfectly content to watch them hatefuck each other, though. 
> 
> Shoutout to my friends who pressured me to finish this, you're all great!

  
The first time Kylo Ren Force choked himself he was alone.

He had awoken from another nightmare about Kamino. Once, years ago, before he'd even hit puberty, Uncle Luke—no, _Luke Skywalker_ —had taken his nephew and a small gaggle of other Force sensitive children on a historical field trip to the long-defunct cloning facilities. They'd landed in sheeting rain, which Kylo had hated. Apparently, it always rained like lashes and anger on Kamino: a good place, he'd thought, to raise soldiers, but not a good place for living. Inside the too-white buildings, he could still hear the indifferent fury of the rain.

They were greeted by a Kaminoan on entry, and Kylo still remembered the sudden wave of disorientation and disgust that swamped him. Kaminoans were too tall, too thin, their grace too inhuman for comfort. They were like no species that Kylo had ever seen before.

When the Kaminoan spoke, Kylo knew that Basic was not its first language, and that some complex translation was going on in the alien's head. It said, "Welcome to Kamino," which was innocuous enough, but Kylo's unease was justified some time later, when it broke off part of its joint history lecture with Luke to say to Kylo, "You know, your namesake fought the man who was the blueprint for our clones. The bounty hunter, Jango Fett."

Obi-Wan Kenobi: for whom Ben Solo had been named, who had starred in so many stories told to Kylo over his life. No one ever asked Kylo if he wanted to hear the stories, and they all expected him to be just like the Jedi he'd never known, who wasn't even _related_ to him.

Luke Skywalker had been startled; he'd looked at the Kaminoan and asked several questions. That left Kylo alone to imagine, unwillingly, a fight that would of course have happened out in that hateful rain.

Imagination suddenly gave way to vision: disoriented, Kylo found himself hanging off the platform above the surging Kaminoan ocean. He was going to fall, he was going to slip and fall, and any moment now those cold violent waters would grab him and drag him down and down, and he would die as water filled his lungs—

—he woke in his bed on the _Finalizer_ , unable to breathe, clawing off the blankets one-handed. The other hand was outstretched, as if holding desperately onto a slippery building, and he couldn't breathe. His first instinct was overwhelming panic, but his training kicked in: fear was a tool to transform into strength. He had mastery over it, as he did over all his emotions. He had mastery. The Force flowing through him could be directed. Redirected.

He coughed and gagged as personal items flew from his nightstand across the room. His water glass from the night before shattered. The rest of the items—some tools, a datapad, his lightsaber—bounced off the wall. He'd flung them away as if he were flinging an obstruction from his throat, and now he could take in big dragging breaths, gulping sweet oxygen.

As he breathed the nightmare, which had come back every few years, faded away again. He had no proof his vision had anything to do with the hateful Kenobi. It was just another fear to add to his anger, just another element that helped him grow in power, allied with the dark side of the Force.

As his body shuddered with his deep measured breaths, he felt another surge of a powerful emotion. It took him a moment to understand what had happened. He was hard, but then it was morning—but suddenly his every nerve felt alive. He bit down on his lip as a sudden wild desire to be touched ran through him, centreing on his throat.

A natural reaction to fear, he told himself, reaching down between his legs to satisfy the craving. Only chemicals, adrenaline and so on. Only that. But when he came, he found himself disappointed, and his throat felt naked.

***

The second time he Force choked himself, General Hux walked in on him.

Kylo Ren had thought the door to his office locked, but the rage that had driven him to his office had made him careless. His men had reported failure; he'd wanted to kill them, terrorize them. But Captain Phasma had been there, and these were elite troopers, and they weren't quite as expendable as he wished. He'd retreated to privacy and taken out the rage on himself.

To stop his own breathing deliberately was much harder than doing it to anyone else. The Force was life energy, and to withstand the urge for self-preservation was tricky and required utmost concentration. Once he had his breathing restricted and stopped, all of his attention was localized, and he could pull himself together.

That concentration shattered when the doors lifted and Hux strode in.

"I think I can give you the intelligence you need," said Hux, his tone full of displeasure at having to give Kylo anything.

Kylo lowered his hand and coughed as he let the Force subside. "Tell me more," he tried to say. His rasping voice distorted further under the vocal modulation of his mask.

"Take that off," Hux snapped. "I can't hear you properly." He punched a button on the wall just behind him, to shut the door. That wasn't for Kylo's benefit: Hux merely liked to provide a unified facade for his troops.

With great reluctance, Kylo raised his hands and removed his mask. He hoped there wasn't a way to tell what he'd been doing. He hadn't been choking himself long enough to make himself blue, certainly not...

Hux's eyebrows furrowed further and he set his jaw. "What the hell's happened to you?" he asked, but it was clearly rhetorical because he continued, "If you'll just examine the data I brought I am sure we can triangulate the location of the Resistance outpost based on the..."

If Kylo Ren's replies were breathy and harsh, if he moved awkwardly because of his choking-induced erection, Hux neither seemed to notice or care. The worst part was that after Hux had gone and taken his business with him, Kylo felt even more aroused, and could barely remember what they had discussed.

***

The third time, Kylo Ren did it because Hux ordered him to.

It was only a week later. There was good news, or rather mixed: the Resistance had a lead on a map to Luke Skywalker, and intelligence reports clearly showed a pilot had been dispatched to Jakku. That was of interest to Kylo. Assorted bad news regarding delays and accidents at Starkiller Base—not uncommon—preoccupied Hux, who seemed to have no idea of the import of the map. Only that it had something to do with the Force, which Hux clearly did not understand at all.

Thus they'd had to have yet another argument about Stormtrooper allocation. The argument gave Kylo Ren a headache. He was never quite certain if the repetitive argument cycle also gave Hux a headache, or if Hux thrived on discussions of statistics and units and timetables.

“I don’t understand, General. We have the _Finalizer_ —”  
  
“Three transports should be sufficient.” Hux paced down the corridor away from the main bridge, and Kylo Ren kept pace with him. Hux frequently liked to move when they argued, if they weren’t behind a door. If the officers look busy, then the men will work. It was an aggravating habit, as if the argument was not worth Hux's full attention.

Kylo said, “The Supreme Leader himself commanded us to apprehend the information and to prevent the Resistance reaching it first.”

Hux took a sharp right into a small, empty board room, and barely waited for Kylo Ren to enter before hitting the control to shut the door. “This is not about orders, Ren, it’s about fulfilling both prongs of our duties. The First Order’s duties. I cannot believe one pilot is worth sending five transports’ worth of troopers in for.”

Kylo set his shoulders and leaned forward. "It sounds like you are throwing this mission away in favour of your own."

"Are you questioning my loyalty to the Order?" demanded Hux. "Or are you questioning the capabilities of my men?" He slammed his palm on the table, and Kylo saw he was getting to him.

Kylo pushed further. "I do question your loyalty, yes."

"You are an ill-spoken child who lacks the necessary discipline to order the troopers under your charge," said Hux, almost hissing with contempt. He made a fast, quickly-halted motion, as if he were going to throw a punch or reach for a blaster he was not wearing.

With his blood up, Kylo moved to retaliate before he realized Hux had caught himself. Kylo slammed Hux against the wall, perpendicular to the door control panel.

"Proving my point," Hux said tightly, his eyes dipping down to Kylo's hands, which gripped Hux's lapels. To Kylo's consternation, Hux didn't look remotely terrified. Not even concerned. Hux took in a breath—Kylo found himself almost transfixed by the ripple of his throat stark white against his uniform—and flung Kylo away from him, while also sweeping his leg to trip Kylo. Kylo lost his balance and landed on one knee.

Indignity tangled with betrayal— _why did the Force not warn me, why did I not catch myself?_ —for a long moment. Kylo fumbled for rage, which was pure and kept him bolstered, but found a mess instead. His vision blurred at the edges. He thought improbably of Kamino, of visions and the sea, and the press of his power holding his own throat closed, and nothing made sense, because he knelt on one knee before a man who held power lesser than his.

He couldn't rise to his feet, couldn't look past Hux's black boots. When Hux ordered Kylo to remove his mask, gently as if testing strange waters, Kylo did so with shaking compliance. The removal did not expand his field of vision. He should be angry, he should be angry.

"So there's hope for you," Hux was saying. "The other day, you didn't ruin any display panels; I found you in a room. I've seen you work your 'powers' on others. I knew what you were doing."

Kylo shuddered.

"Do it again," said Hux.

Kylo could feign ignorance, could say he had no idea what Hux meant. Excuses and confusion rose to his tongue, as much mask as the contraption he'd placed on the floor. Instead he hesitated.

"Go on," said Hux in his most dispassionate voice.

For no one else would Kylo have complied. Subordinates could not have such power and with mentors this would have been a test. But there was no pretense here: Hux could not take his position, and it was in Hux's best interest to keep this private. Their only relationship was professional.

So Kylo opened himself to the Force and felt it around him, waiting. He felt as though gravity had eased. His attention narrowed, focussed on the self, the body, the throat vulnerable to the air, needing air and wanting to be closed all at once, and with the pressure of Kylo's will, the air could no longer enter.

 _This is dangerous_ , he wanted to tell Hux. A moment later, he forgot everything. His vision blurred further. Every muscle tensed as his body fought for air while his will resisted. He could hear the blood roar in his head, felt his extremities tingle. He was achingly hard all at once, and he could not spare the emotion to feel embarrassment.

He heard or felt Hux step closer, felt the pressure and texture of gloved fingers in his hair. Hux yanked his head backwards, but Hux was a blur in Kylo's vision, black and white and red-gold. "Good," Hux said. The approval should not have warmed Kylo, nor fed the flame in his groin, but it did. Kylo was distantly aware of being dragged upright, then thrown down to the other side, onto the boardroom's table. It would have knocked the air out of him if he'd had any to spare; instead he felt like his ribcage would break, and that it held was a miracle. His legs dangled off the edge of the table, spread to either side of Hux's body.

"Stop," commanded Hux.

Kylo slumped onto the table, coughing for air, arms outspread, fingers scrabbling for purchase. He hauled in breath like a fisher hauled in a catch; there could never be enough. He felt wonderful and alive and aroused and awful.

Hux's hand fumbled through the thick fabric of Kylo's robes until it found Kylo's hard cock. Hux gripped it tight, as much as the fabric allowed, his lips twisted into a sneer. "I had not realized you were such a pervert."

Without the voice modulation in his mask, Kylo couldn't dare respond. He didn't know what he would sound like, didn't know if he still had a voice. He didn't know if he could control his breathing enough to speak. He certainly couldn't disagree, not when he desperately wanted Hux's hand to _move_.

Hux leaned forward, one arm braced to the side, his face kissing-close to Kylo's. "Do it again," he suggested, conversationally.

And Kylo did, his body jerking in protest until Hux said, "That's enough." With breath came emotions Kylo didn't even bother trying to identify. He breathed and thought of nothing else.

Until a crack across his face brought him back to the boardroom. He jolted upright, almost headbutting Hux. "What the—"

"I asked you a question," Hux said.

"You did?" That earned him another slap. The pain seemed to run into his cock which, Kylo realized with intense disappointment, was no longer being held.

"I asked if you were sensible," said Hux. "Apparently I have my answer." He rested his hand briefly on Kylo's cheek in a parody of kindness. Kylo's hips bucked almost involuntarily. Hux snorted, then stepped back. "On your knees," he said. At any other time, the self-satisfied pleasure of his voice would drive up Kylo's anger. Now, it made him feel watery and thin, somehow, and he slid forwards onto both knees. He faced Hux's crotch, watching Hux's still-gloved fingers unfasten the trousers, and couldn't think of much at all.

Kylo didn't need the pressure of Hux's hand on his hair to move forward and take the cock in his mouth. A few seconds later, as Hux pressed forward and held Kylo's head in place as he gagged, Kylo realized that _guidance_ hadn't been the aim. He thrashed weakly, still gagging.

"I expect you to acclimatize," said Hux, and he tightened his grip on Kylo's hair, pulling it in the process.

Acclimatization went slowly, and Hux had to withdraw several times to give Kylo a chance to recover. Saliva sopped down Kylo's chin, prompting Hux to comment, "You're a complete mess. Absolutely filthy," at which Kylo fumbled through his robes to free his cock and jerk it. Hux did not prohibit this. Dividing his attention made Kylo better able to take Hux's cock practically down the throat, at which point Hux firmly pressed on Kylo's head until his nose was pressing into the red hair of Hux's crotch. The head of Kylo's cock was wet, and the spot where it had pressed against the robe damp, and not being able to breathe again made Kylo's hands halting on his cock. He made a sound in his throat, something utterly unbidden, muffled and debauched.

Hux said, "Fuck," and then, "fuck, you're crying. You're actually fucking crying."

Was he? Kylo drew back, and Hux let him. He panted around the cock in his mouth. His entire face felt wet. Saliva, precome and tears. His hand jerked his cock faster. He felt his sinuses tighten, so he really was crying. Everything felt as wet and as uncontrolled as a storm, and he came with huge violent shudders. Hux withdrew his cock and waited him out.

And then, before Kylo could recover, Hux rammed his cock down Kylo's throat again—and held him until he squirmed for want of breath—and out and in again—and again until Hux came in staggered hot spurts that hit the back of Kylo's throat, and then again over his tongue, and then again over Kylo's lips.

Hux stepped back and tucked his cock away, adjusting his clothing back to military neatness. Kylo breathed, and breathed, and licked at the come on his lips and didn't know what to make of the flavour. He heard Hux say, "When you've finished snivelling, make sure you get cleaned up."

He left, and Kylo was extremely grateful for the speed of the doors on the _Finalizer_. He reached out towards the door, trying to lock the door with the Force. A light flickered, affirmative. He slouched forward. His throat hurt terribly. He couldn't imagine his breathing would ever slow. Carefully, sniffling, he fumbled in his pockets for a cloth. He normally kept one or two on his body for cleaning his hands of grease or oil or blood.

Slowly, carefully, he tidied himself up as well as he could. He replaced his mask before he stood up, and with it on, he found he could stand as straight as he ever had, and walk with usual firmness and purpose. Everything was different but nothing had truly changed.

 


End file.
